


Flame.

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, pwp to the max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony is terrible at demonstrating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flame.

Bruce is about the only person in the world who can have Tony Stark’s full attention. His mind jumps with his, and for the first time Tony finds himself happy to talk to someone. Usually it’s a chore, a method of business. But the guy is like a soundboard, and he actually gets excited talking to him, watching him understand the intricate ways ideas click in his head. Talking to Pepper is nice, too; she’s grounding. And witty enough to keep him in line. But Bruce, Bruce is a sort of catalyst. Tony can think of the impossible and Bruce is right on board considering ways to reach it.

Tony isn’t used to being impressed by people. There’s only a handful he can honestly think of, and Bruce is edging on the top of that list now. Right now Bruce is explaining how to make Tony’s suit able to pass the atmospheric barrier with elaborate graphs and a pointer pen, looking at him over his glasses, mouth drawn in a serious line. Tony has never been more turned on in his life.

“So where in this presentation are you going to fuck me?” Tony grins. He never claimed to have tact. Bruce rolls his eyes, but he’s definitely collapsing his pen. And is doing a horrible job of hiding his grin.

“I was thinking at the end. You know. After we made you the first person to go into space without a bulky shuttle.”

Tony pursed his lips to one side. “Well, one, that suit is still too heavy for me to wear under normal atmospheric pressure. I’d collapse and it wouldn’t be pretty.” See, he’d totally been paying attention. And with how sexy Bruce’s lips were it was honestly not an easy thing to do.  “And two, I took some notes.” He passes over his phone to Bruce without cracking a smile. Also not an easy thing to do. He should be rewarded for this kind of thing.

Bruce laughs in his characteristically disbelieving way. “Tony, this is a stick figure drawing.”

“Not just any stick figure drawing.” He points at his phone again.

“Is this supposed to be us?” He squints at it and turns it sideways.

“Yes!” Tony rolls his eyes like that’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Look, okay, I know it’s not the strongest visual aid…” He slinks up to Bruce, smirking and taking his phone back. “I think demonstrating would be easier.”

“Should I get the crash test dummy?”

“Fuck you.”

Bruce sneers and uses his weight to push Tony back against the desk. Jesus, that goes straight to his dick. Bruce doesn’t do anything after that, other than slowly take things out of his pockets. He smiles as he does it, though, and Tony feels his mouth going dry.

See, Tony is used to sex. He’s used to coming one minute and making a business call the next. Supposedly that makes him “insensitive” but he doesn’t really buy into that. Bruce, though. Bruce makes him remember what he started liking about it in the first place. He wants to fuck Bruce specifically, not just have sex. When Bruce’s hands are on his hips or his mouth is on his neck, Tony feels him like a fire in his belly.

So when Bruce finally yanks him around and bends him over his desk, you better believe Tony is arching back. He likes the way Bruce laughs at his desperation, easy and casual, and he likes the way his fingers pry his shirt out of his jeans inch by inch instead of all at once. He likes when Bruce’s hands slide up his shirt and grab at his skin and he’s already sweating in the creases of his legs, can feel drops beading on his neck.

“Is this right?” His breath is hot on Tony’s ear, and he likes that too. And his smirking against his neck; also good.

“More or less.” Tony grins even though his face is smashed against glass, cool against his flushed cheeks.

He bites his tongue when Bruce’s hand reaches between his legs to cup his balls and dick. Fuck, his hands are so big. They need to have fewer clothes on, and very soon. He’s about to have a damn heat stroke. He rocks up against his hand and groans, and Bruce chuckles completely humorlessly; a chill shoots up Tony’s spine.

“You’re doing a terrible job of demonstrating.”

Tony smiles in spite of himself. “Better. You’re better.” Wow fuck his speech is slurred. When did that happen? Bruce finally, _finally_ starts unbuttoning Tony’s shirt and slips it over his shoulders. He can almost feel Bruce’s doctor-trained analytic gaze studying his back as the silk peels off his sweat-slick skin. He’s planting kisses across his shoulder blades now, the kind that linger and stay connected to each other. When his hand grabs his dick tighter Tony knows he’s gone.

“Fuck, Bruce,” Tony wishes he could sink his nails into something because scratching the smooth desk is not cutting it. He reaches behind him to grab Bruce’s hip but his hand gets brushed away. Bruce’s fingers reach back and press against the cleft of Tony’s ass, making his eyes open wide. He teases over the hole; Tony’s stomach drops to his knees. Tony pleads against the desk in low murmurs. Thick fingers tangle in his hair and pull his head back and fuck, now even his scalp feels like it’s on fire, and there’s no cool glass against his burning face anymore.

“Please, okay, please. That’s what you want to hear, isn’t it?” The fingers curl tighter and yank and Tony groans in pain-pleasure. “Please!” A reactionary beg. “Goddammit, Bruce—“ Bruce laughs again and lets his head fall back on the desk, and Tony closes his eyes as Bruce adroitly pulls his slacks and boxers to his knees.

Shit. His eyes roll back in his head when Bruce’s hand closes around his cock, teasing more than really stroking. “You could come like this.”

“Mm.” Almost affirmation there, Stark.

“But you don’t want to.” Tony looks over his shoulder to see Bruce smirk before he slides his shirt up over his head.

Another weak mm. Half-naked Bruce smirks again. He rolls his hard-on between Tony’s ass cheeks and Tony hisses, caught between rolling back or pulling away from the bite of his zipper. Why is the zipper still there? God, he’s such a bastard. And Tony fucking loves every second of it. The weight of Bruce is gone for a second and Tony hears some fumbling and shuffling and light cursing. Zipper teeth whizzing apart. Pop of a cap. Snap of rubber. Tony’s smirk gets wider. His eyes roll back in his head when Bruce’s lube-slick cock is rubbing against the cleft of his ass all at once.

“You could—nnn—take me like this.” Matter-of-fact, like everything Bruce is.

Tony swallows and nods. “But I don’t want to.” That’s almost a lie. Tony wants it to hurt a little, loves feeling the drag of his cock, as much as he can get. And Bruce knows when he’s almost lying, but he pulls away anyway. He pushes a finger inside Tony and Tony smiles in something like relief.

“That feel good?” There’s always this tinge of doubt with Bruce. Tony bucks back in response and gasps when Bruce’s finger drags over all the right places. He knows what he’s doing, that’s for damn sure. And he learned so quickly Tony frequently forgot there was a time when he didn’t hit him just right, didn’t know exactly what to do next. He gasps again when Bruce adds another finger without even so much as a consultation. Fuck, that’s good. Tony’s hands scramble on the smooth glass and he hisses as his nipples drag along the cool glass. The next instant Bruce is reaching up and tweaking one none too gently.

“Fuck—Bruce, Jesus—“ He feels his body shudder. Tony’s head rolls on his neck and he glances over his shoulder. No one should be allowed to look that self-satisfied except himself. Bruce’s fingers crook and split inside him and Tony’s neck snaps back so fast he might have gotten whiplash.

“Now?”

Tony nods desperately, and even if it’s just for a few seconds the aching emptiness he feels when Bruce pulls out his fingers makes him want to sob. He grits his teeth instead, and Bruce’s big hands close around his hips.

“You have to relax.” Doctor’s orders. But he’s right, every muscle in Tony’s body is coiled to spring and he can’t take him like this. So he relaxes and rolls his spine up, and just when he thinks he’s ready Bruce pushes inside him and makes his mouth fall open and his eyebrows screw up and his body tense up all over again. Bruce makes a sound like that chuckle thing he had going but he’s cut off with a loud, guttural groan that makes Tony’s cock twitch. God, Tony hasn’t felt this full in a long damn time, and he relishes it. He rocks back on Bruce’s cock for all it’s worth, and Bruce even looks somewhat surprised he can take him to the base the way he is. Tony would cite lots of practice.

Bruce gets a better hold on his hips and pulls him back, and Tony couldn’t close his mouth if he wanted to. Everything is spilling out of it; grunts, groans, moans, his name, parts of sentences, lots of curse words. Bruce fucking him is good, so good, all of it is good, and after he’ll remember it all. His cock is leaking against his belly and he whimpers. Fucking whimpers. But Bruce doesn’t touch him yet and he likes that, too, likes coming at the last possible second even if tears prick his eyes.

He’s thick, god he’s thick, cock dragging over Tony’s clenching muscles and making his vision fuck up so much it’s easier to close his eyes. “Tohhny…” Hearing his name is always good, and Tony feels his lips twitch into a smile. He passed blissful a long time ago and has crossed the line to mind-blowing euphoria as his body shudders with all of Bruce’s thorough, hard thrusts. The bite of the desk into his diaphragm is probably turning him on more than it should, especially because Bruce’s weight makes it hard to breathe at all. He’s completely dizzy with lust and that’s the way he wants it to be.

The second Bruce’s hand closes around his cock Tony is gone, coming in spurts over his hand and messing up several papers on the desk. He might feel bad about that later (he won’t) but all he feels is red-hot sex afterglow and Bruce using him, fucking his too-tight ass into the desk. He pushes Tony’s head into the desk, but his thumb lingers over his cheekbone, giving away how much of this is for Tony’s sake and not his own. Tony moans against his wrist and Bruce’s cock twitches inside him, and he collapses on top of Tony’s back. Neither of them moves for a long while.

When Bruce is done panting and recovering he kisses the back of his neck and his shoulders and his cheeks and even down his back, which makes Tony shudder between pants. There’s never a time with Bruce where he doesn’t feel like he’s been touched and fucked as completely as Bruce knows how. It’s delicious; perfect, even. Bruce is the oxygen feeding his flame.


End file.
